


Shadows Taller Than Our Soul

by nwspaprtaxis



Series: Stairway 'Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Aunt Jess, Daddy Dean, Dean has a kid, Disabled Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Mutism, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sam Winchester, Uncle Sammy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nwspaprtaxis/pseuds/nwspaprtaxis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean has a bad night and Allie gets to go to Stanford for the day with Uncle Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows Taller Than Our Soul

**Author's Note:**

> **Original Publication Date:** June 15, 2011
> 
>  **A/N:** Takes place approximately two months after **Everything Still Turns To Gold** / **Rings Of Smoke Through The Trees** so it's probably best to read those two first if you haven't already. I had this posted on my LJ but I took it down to possibly rework. As that didn't quite pan out, it is now being reposted due to popular demand. For those of you who recognize it, yes, I've edited it and, yes, I've changed the name of Dean's daughter.
> 
> Many many thanks to **Tolakasa** who not only beta'd this, but also put up with me whining about this for years and convincing me this is lovely and deserves to be reuploaded.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Do not own. Am not making a profit. Just simply having fun with their psyches and returning them slightly more battered to Kripke and Co. and all that. Yadda, yadda. Also, the title comes from the song _Stairway To Heaven_ , which belongs to Led Zeppelin and its respective parties. I also don't own anything belonging to Pink Floyd or anything that smacks of popular culture.

Sam senses that there’s someone in his room before the tiny pat on his forearm. Snapping his eyes open, he comes face-to-face with a skinny, coltish four-year-old girl clad in a faded, well-worn Pink Floyd t-shirt that reaches halfway past her knees, the sleeves almost covering her wrists, blond hair caught up in a frizzy, unraveling braid. She shifts from foot to foot, nibbling at her lower lip, green-hazel eyes huge and round in her pale, freckled face.

“Allie?” Sam whispers, props himself up on one elbow. “What’s wrong?”

She stares.

“Is it Dean?”

A blink. Her lip wobbles. 

“Okay, shhhh. Don’t cry,” Sam tells her hastily, already pushing the covers aside and swinging his long legs over the edge of the mattress. 

Allie takes a step back, tense and nervous.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m going to take care of it, all right?” 

Allie bobs her head and waits as he rises to his full height. Curling her tiny hand around three of his fingers, she trails in his wake back into the living room she shares with Dean. She halts in the doorway, pulling him short. Sam looks down and he can see fear and worry swirling in her eyes. 

A glance at the adult lying on the futon reveals that, yeah, Dean’s in a bad way. 

His brother’s lying on his back, muscles locked up tight, and even from a distance, in a darkened room, Sam can tell he’s in pain. He wants to rush to Dean’s side, to perform emergency triage as he’d been trained to since the age of nine. But first he’s got a terrified kid to take care of. 

Dean lets out a low, anguished moan and Allie flinches, stiffening up so badly that Sam’s scared she’ll shatter into a million pieces.

Dropping to his knees in front of her, he wraps his hands on either shoulder — he’s taken aback at how they envelop her — and moves in close enough until he knows he’s filling her vision, that she can’t see the bed, can’t see Dean, can’t see how bad it is. “Hey. It’s okay. He’s going to be okay. I’m going to take care of your dad, okay?” She stares at him, green gaze flicking to where she knows Dean is, silent tears dripping from her eyes and Sam reaches up, smears them away with his thumbs.

Suddenly, a sickening realization sinks into the pit of his stomach as he remembers what Dean’d told him that first night when they arrived. “Allie. Allie. Hey. Look at me. It’s going to be okay. I swear. Cross my heart. He’s gonna be fine. Okay? You trust me?”

Allie nods, tears still dripping silently, her breath hitching. 

“Don’t be afraid. I’m going to fix it. He’s not going to die.” Sam wraps his arms around her, pulls her close. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be all right.” He feels her hands fists in his shirt, her grip tenacious, burying her face into his shoulder, tears soaking the fabric there. Cupping the back of her head with his hand, he wonders if this was how it was when Dean’d met her. He squeezes her once more and then pulls back slightly, thumbs away fresh tears. “Your dad’s going to be okay. I know it looks bad, but he’s going to be all right.” He takes a breath. “Can you do me a huge favor?”

She nods, squaring her shoulders slightly, catching her lower lip in her teeth again. 

And her mannerism, her willingness to help despite her fear, is so much like his brother’s that Sam swallows convulsively.

“You’ve done so, so good tonight.” Sam reaches out, strokes back some flyaway yellow strands, tucking them behind her ear. “You’re really brave — way braver than I was at your age. But I need you to do something,” Sam searches her face, smiles reassuringly. “Can you go back to my room and stay with Auntie Jess? She gets scared at night. Do you think you could stay with her for me? It’s okay if you sleep in my spot.”

Another nod. 

Sam leans forward, plants a kiss on her forehead. “Now scoot.” He shuts the door behind her as she scurries out and goes to Dean.

His brother’s trembling, sweating heavily, and still making that horrible wounded-animal sound in the back of his throat.

“Shhh. It’s okay. I gotcha,” Sam whispers, the old, familiar reassurance springing instantly from his lips.

“A-Allie?” Dean pants out.

“Jess’s got her. She’s fine. A bit shaken up, but she’s okay,” Sam tells him, pulling back the blankets. “It’s just us. It’s okay. Go ahead and curse if you wanna.” Sam takes a breath as his eyes land on his brother’s twitching right leg. He holds up his hands. “I’m not going to do anything, but I gotta look, okay?”

"Ohgodfuckinghellithurtsohfuck…" Dean squeezes his eyes shut as Sam tugs down sweatpants and pushes up the thin cloth of his boxers.

Sam clamps his jaw shut as he sees the ruined, wasted mess that is his brother’s thigh. The muscle is atrophied, withered, despite the fact Dean has been able to put weight on his leg for a month. He swallows as he sees the scar stretching from his brother’s hip to knee. _Scar_ is an understatement — it’s a freakin’ _canyon_ all purple-red and going clear down to the bone, a two-finger-wide swath of muscle gone from his brother’s thigh. 

Sam swallows convulsively, can’t tear his eyes from the wreckage.

“Per-percocet?” Dean’s voice, panting, broken, cuts through his shock. 

“Yeah. Percocet time.” Sam looks up into Dean’s sweating face, rubbing his hands together. “And ice. And heat. I gotcha. I’ve got everything.” He settles his warmed palms on the visibly-jumping muscles and digs in his thumbs.

**::: ::: :::**

It takes twenty-five minutes for the good drugs to kick in.

And thirty more after that for the cramps and knots to ease up.

**::: ::: :::**

Sam slips into his bedroom and sees that Jess is awake, her eyes shining in the dim blue light from the streetlamps outside. She’s got her arms around Allie. The little girl is fast asleep, curled up against Jess, mouth pulled into a frown. Jess moves her hand, strokes Allie’s cheek.

“Shhhh,” she whispers, pressing her index finger to her mouth. “She just fell asleep. How’s Dean? Is he okay?”

Sam nods. “Yeah. Just had — has — a really bad charley horse. I’m going to stay with him the rest of the night. No sense in moving her again.” He opens one of Jess’ drawers and takes out the microwavable feed-corn heat pack that makes its appearance once a month. “She’s okay?”

“Scared shitless. But she’s good for now.”

“What’s your schedule like tomorrow? I’m thinking of taking her to school with me. Give Dean the day off.”

“I have all my long classes and a lab. My first one is at eight.”

“I don’t start until nine-thirty. You off then?”

“Yes, but I’ve got a class at eleven and then one at two, and I was planning on going to the lab between those classes.”

“Perfect. It’ll work out. I just have classes at nine-thirty and one. You think you could stay with her in the library or the student union until eleven so she doesn’t have to sit in on Shakespeare? I’ve got an exam. I’m off for lunch, though and can take her then.”

Jess shrugs. “Sure, but I think it’d be better if she sat in with you for the afternoon. She trusts you more, and I doubt engineering would interest her.”

“Great. Get some sleep,” Sam whispers before slipping out of the room.

**::: ::: :::**

“Dean, I’m going to take Allie with me to school. Jess and I talked it over. We’ve got it all worked out and taken care of. Just rest, okay? Stay off that leg.”

Dean nods, eyes closed. He’s no longer sweating, but he’s pale and looks like crap warmed over. “Thanks, Sam. Everything you need is in my pack.” He waves vaguely towards a black canvas backpack propped against his duffel. He rolls over, readjusting the rewarmed pad, and is about to go back to sleep when he cracks an eye and twists his shoulder towards Sam. “What’re you planning on doing for lunch?”

“Don’t worry about it. I figure I’ll treat her to the chicken nuggets in the cafeteria. They’re halfway decent, and I’ve got more cash on my card than I know what to do with.” Sam unzips the sturdy Jansport backpack and is greeted with a one-gallon Ziploc bag of Cheerios, some green Army men, an assortment of crayons and coloring books, and a package of baby wipes. “Dean, this is a friggin’ mommy bag.”

Dean flips him the finger and Sam knows that if his brother were anywhere remotely near top form, he’d be sporting bruises. “No soda.”

“What?”

“At lunch. No soda. Not even a little bit, no matter how much she gives you the sad eyes. If you do, _you’re_ the one sleeping with the bedwetting Mexican Jumping Bean while I get the hot chick. And the good mattress.”

Sam huffs a laugh. “Go back to sleep, _mom_.”

**::: ::: :::**

“All right, Bean. Ready for a big day?” Sam asks, holding out her lilac hoodie. He slips it over her head and threads her arms through the sleeves.

Allie looks up at him as Sam gently pushes back her hood, frowning as she glances nervously to the closed door. 

“Your dad’s okay. He just needs to sleep. In the meantime, you’ve got me, okay?”

Her eyes widen and Sam can almost see the tears well up, like those anime cartoons Dean lets her watch sometimes.

“Hey. Do you wanna go say bye to him before we go?”

The tears spill over silently and a hitching sob escapes her throat. Sam feels out of his depth as he hastens to reassure her, taking the tiny girl by the hand and leading her into the bedroom.

“Aw, Sam, you made her cry didn’t you?” Dean says, propping himself up on both elbows. “C’mere, baby girl, it’s okay.” He sits up and pats the mattress beside him. She catapults herself into his arms. He hugs her tightly, palms her hair. He wipes away her tears with the short sleeve of his shirt. “Daddy doesn’t feel too good so you’re going to go to school with Uncle Sammy, all right?”

A tentative nod.

“I’ll be here when you get home. I promise.” He hugs her tightly again. “You’ll be good for Uncle Sammy for me?”

She sniffles against his shirt.

“I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? I’m not gonna go anywhere.” 

She squeezes even tighter.

Dean tightens his grip and glares up at Sam. Mouths, “What the hell did you say?”

Sam shrugs, hands helplessly spread out on either side of him. “I just asked her if she wanted to say bye…”

“That’s the last thing they told her in the hospital before her mom died,” Dean whispers. “She doesn’t like that word. Not since they took her in to see her mom. We don’t use that word anymore.” He gentles his voice, rubs her back. “Hey. Don’t cry. It’s okay, baby girl. I’m not going anywhere. You like Uncle Sammy. He’s going to take you to college where you get to see what Uncle Sammy does all day. I’ll bet you’re going to have something yummy in the cafeteria. Daddy can’t go with Uncle Sammy because he’s too big. But you’re special. I’m going to need a report at the end of the day, okay? You have to tell me everything Uncle Sammy does. You’re my spy, all right?”

There’s a nod and she finally disengages.

“Yeah. You like Uncle Sammy and you’re going to have fun today. Daddy can’t go, but I’ll be right here when you come back, and then we’ll do something special, all right?”

She nods. Reaches out for another hug. He obliges, kisses her on the top of her head.

“You gotta let go. You don’t want to make Uncle Sammy late and get him in trouble, do you?”

She shakes her head, kisses him and places her palm on his thigh. “Yeah, it hurts today,” Dean tells her as she clambers off the bed. Sam doesn’t miss how she’s careful not to crawl over or put weight on Dean’s thigh. She pauses at the side of the futon and bends over, kissing his thigh.

“Boo-boo’s better.” Dean reaches out, tugs one of the twin pigtails Jess braided that morning.

Allie reaches up, wraps her hand around two of Sam’s fingers and follows him to the hallway. At the doorway, she pauses, looks back, waves at him.

Dean flashes her a thumbs-up. “See you later, alligator.”

**::: ::: :::**

Allie hesitates on the top of the stairs, watching Sam. “C’mon,” he encourages, but she doesn’t move, sucking on her index finger as though she’s waiting. Then Sam gets it. She’s used to Dean going down first, on crutches, then, in the past month, by cane. “It’s okay,” he says softly, extending his hand. “C’mon.” This time, she takes it and they descend together. Allie pads slowly besides him, planting both feet on the tread before proceeding, and Sam finds himself taking each step one by one to compensate for her short legs and uncertain steps. When they reach the bottom and slip through the grated door to the street, Sam is half-hunched over, accommodating for her hand. After several steps along the uneven sidewalk, he pauses. “Do you want a ride?” he asks her.

He’s rewarded with an unexpected, tiny smile and a shy nod. 

“Yeah? Okay. Up you go.” He wraps his hands around her skinny torso and lifts her up, settling her on his shoulders. “You good? Hold on.” He feels her tiny hands tighten around his forehead as he secures his grip on her shins.

Sam takes his time getting to campus. Even though Allie still hasn’t said a word — not to him or Jess, at least — in the nearly two months since Dean showed up on his doorstep with her in tow asking to be taken in like Oliver Twist, he nonetheless senses that Allie is thrilled to be riding on his shoulders. She’s still, as though she’s afraid one kick would end the ride or, Sam suspects, hurt him. He’s already noticed how she unconsciously adapts and fills in for Dean — and she’s doing the same with him, as though she still hasn’t quite figured out that not everyone has a leg fucked to hell.

When they finally reach the library, he lifts her down and bends over to hold her hand. Allie squeezes her hand tightly around his fingers and glances up at him, eyes huge and worried.

Sam flashes her a reassuring smile. “It’s all right. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Her shoulders relax fractionally but she doesn’t loosen her grip or let down her guard. She flinches up as a couple of students brush past them, a low whimper escaping her throat. 

Sam lifts her up and instantly her arms twine around his throat and her legs settle around his torso. “Better?” he whispers, securing his grip beneath her bottom, a steadying hand at her back.

She nods, rests her head on his shoulder.

“Hey, Sam!” a girl calls out to him, making him twist. A tiny brunette shambles beside him, readjusting her hold on the oversized _Riverside Shakespeare_ that threatens to spill out of her arms. “Does Jess know about your new girlfriend?” She flashes him a bright, easy smile.

Sam grins. “Sarah, meet Allie. She’s my niece and my second-best girl. My brother doesn’t feel good so she’s spending the day with me. You ready for the Shakespeare test?”

Sarah’s face clouds slightly. “I’m not sure about _The Tempest_. Do you want going over it with me?”

**::: ::: :::**

Halfway through the study session, Sam feels Allie tap on his forearm.

“Hmm?” Sam turns to his niece, focusing all his attention on her.

Allie wordlessly pushes a lined looseleaf paper covered in marker towards him.

“For me?”

She nods, her brow furrowing worriedly.

Sam flashes her a grin. “Well, let’s put it in a special place okay?” He flips his binder over and carefully slides the drawing behind the clear plastic. “There. Now I get to look at it all the time and it won’t get dirty or wrinkly.”

**::: ::: :::**

Jess meets them in front of the student center, slightly out of breath from her ten-minute walk. She pecks Sam on the cheek as he sets down Allie. She crouches before the girl. “How do you like Stanford so far?”

Allie hunches up her shoulders, looks up at Sam.

“I think she’s intimidated,” Sam says, placing a reassuring palm on her head. “There’s a bit too much going on and it’s a bit too big. She was better when we were sitting in the library.”

Jess nods. “I have some work to do, so I was thinking of finding a quiet spot to sit and get some things done anyway.”

Allie tugs at Sam’s jeans and he bends over. “What is it, Bean?”

She blinks up at him and shifts from foot to foot.

“I think she needs to go to the bathroom,” Jess says easily. “I’ll take care of it. You should get to class before you’re late.”

**::: ::: :::**

“I have a surprise for you,” Jess tells Allie as she slides in beside the girl at a metal table. She sets the purple hoodie aside as she opens up her army-green canvas shoulder bag. “It’s from your daddy.”

She ignores the sharp intake of breath coming from the little girl and sets the battered box of Crayola crayons on the table before pulls out a brand-new Care Bear coloring book.

Allie takes the coloring book from her like it’s something precious and looks up anxiously at Jess.

“Your dad’s okay. Don’t worry, sweetie.”

Allie’s lower lip quivers.

“Do you want to call him?” Jess asks rhetorically, already taking out her cell phone and scrolling through the address book until she gets to _DEAN_. She presses the green _CALL_ button and holds the phone to her ear.

It rings three times before a sleepy, rough voice answers.

“Hey Dean. Sorry I woke you…” Jess trails off.

“Jess?” His voice is half-slurred, confused.

“Yeah.”

“How’s Allie? She being good?”

“She’s perfect. She’s right here with me while Sam’s in class. She’s just a little freaked. I think she needs to hear your voice.”

There’s a grunt. “Put ’er on.”

Jess hands the phone to Allie. “There’s someone who wants to say hi.”

Allie carefully takes the phone into her hands and holds it up to her ear. She cocks her head to the side, listening, then she smiles and there’s a tiny, wet smack of her lips against the mouthpiece before she hands the phone back to Jess.

**::: ::: :::**

Sam walks through the bustling cafe, carrying Allie on his hip, leather satchel slung over his opposite shoulder. “You can have anything you’d like,” he tells her as they wind through the various stations. 

Her eyes go huge as she surveys the options surrounding her. It’s so much like Dean that Sam laughs, startling her.

She flinches and Sam reaches up with his hand, straightening her t-shirt and placing his palm against her stomach. “It’s okay. You want sandwiches? Salad?”

His suggestions are met with a headshake and a disgusted expression. “Pasta?” Another negative shake and he has to jerk his head back to avoid her pigtails whipping him in the face. Sam grins. “Chicken nuggets?” he offers, already making his way to the back wall.

She’s quiet until they reach the soft drinks. Allie takes her finger out of her mouth and points to the Coca-Cola icon. “Your dad said no. Sorry, Bean,” Sam tells her and he’s met with wide, sad green eyes. Dean’s words come back to him: _No soda. Not even a little bit, no matter how much she gives you the sad eyes_. And he remembers the bedwetting threat. “How about some Hawaiian Punch, instead?” he asks, already filling a Styrofoam coffee cup with the too-bright red liquid. He squeezes the black cover on before filling a tall cardboard cup with water.

Five minutes later, he’s swiping his card and carrying out a tray loaded up with chicken nuggets, fries, and punch for her and a salad wrap and water for himself. 

Sam’s got his wrap halfway to his mouth when he sees Allie staring at him, her food untouched. He looks down at her plate and back up at her patient _what are you, stupid?_ stare. He exhales, places his lunch back down and reaches over, tearing each one of her chicken nuggets in half. She smiles up at him as he picks up his wrap again, carefully, neatly dipping her fried chicken into the sweet-and-sour sauce and suckling off the sauce before nibbling at the nugget.

**::: ::: :::**

It’s barely a quarter of the way through class when Allie begins fussing. She doesn’t make any noise and doesn’t draw any attention to herself, but Sam can tell from the way she’s rubbing her eyes and screwing up her face that she’s at the point of exhaustion. She no longer has interest in her coloring book and keeps squirming.

Sam sets his notebook on her left-handed desk and turns up his own right-handed desk. He twists in his seat. “C’mere,” he whispers and spreads his arms slightly. 

She’s out of her seat and at his side in an instant. Sam lifts her up, settles her on his lap. He doesn’t warn her to be quiet.

He feels her lean her head back against his pectoral and he raises a hand, stroking her bangs. They’re getting overgrown and ragged again. Within moments, she’s asleep, the side of her face is pressed up against his flannel shirt, her hand clutching the front of his cotton t-shirt.

Sam slides her vacant desk closer to him and opens his notebook to a fresh page.

**::: ::: :::**

Dean meets them at the door, still in sweatpants, leaning on his crutches. Sam sets Allie down and she instantly latches on to Dean’s load-bearing leg. 

“You have a good day?” Dean asks easily, and Allie nods enthusiastically, squeezing his knee tighter, burying her face into the soft fabric of his pants. He nudges her away gently. “I missed you, too, baby girl. It’s no fun without anyone to play with.”

“How’s the leg?” Sam asks, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a pound of ground hamburger.

“Still a little sore. Keeps seizing up, but it’s better,” Dean tells him, sinking onto the kitchen chair and placing a discarded ice pack against his ruined thigh.

“Hence the crutches,” Sam says.

Dean nods, leans the crutches against the wall behind him, and picks up Allie, settling her on his left thigh.

“If that’s not better in a day or so, you should go to the clinic.” Sam looks pointedly at Dean.

Dean exhales. “Yeah. Probably.” He grimaces, digs the heel of his palm into his thigh. Sam widens his eyes slightly at how quickly Dean acquiesced, but doesn’t call his older brother on it as Dean turns to his daughter. “What do you say we let Uncle Sammy do all the cooking and go watch a movie before dinner?”

Allie nods and slides off, waits by his chair as he struggles upright, stabilizing himself on his crutches and hops towards the living room.

Sam follows them and he sees Dean lower himself onto the unmade futon and Allie clambers up, settling close to his side. Dean glances up, grins, and turns on the TV and DVD player with the remote. Seconds later, the main menu of Disney’s _The Incredibles_ explodes across the screen.


End file.
